In Which Caliborn Tries Writing
by weebish
Summary: Caliborn turns his eyes to the field of writing to create his own licentious material.


Caliborn sat hunched over his computer, banging at the keyboard with all his might in the hopes that something resembling coherent words would form out of his impatient keysmashing. After a few minutes of being in "the zone", as he liked to call it, he looked over his handiwork.

It read as such:

 _EuligrU YleafhwUILEGIWU ;eowhwrhwu;iohy_

Caliborn quickly hit the "backspace" key multiple times in rapid succession as to erase his embarrassing first attempt. He realized he needed to be serious if he was to produce satisfactory pornography. The random jumbles of words were a start, to be sure, and his keysmashing was already leaps and bounds above the work of his putrid sister, Calliope, whose stories were so flowery and sickeningly self-indulgent they made him sick, but it was not enough. He had tried to make a masterpiece, if by "try" you mean put absolutely no effort into it at all, but it appeared his (considerable lack of) efforts were not enough.

"Do or do not, there is no try," a very wise man once said. Caliborn wasn't sure who exactly said that, but he did believe it was Cherub Shakespeare.

Yes, he was quite confident Cherub Shakespeare said that.

Caliborn supposed he could ask one of the humans to make him some of the pornography he desired, but he had come to the realization that, as an artist, he needed to create the content he wanted to consume. In short, it was Caliborn's duty, no, his _calling,_ to create the most disgustingly affectionate pornography in the history of Paradox Space.

He poised his claws over the keyboard and once again began to type, albeit this time with more thought and precision behind the smashing of the keys.

 _Once upon a time._ he wrote, confident that he was off to a good start. Truly, an original hook was critical to developing a unique story as a whole, and what was more unique than starting a story with _once upon a time_? Nothing, that's what. He gave himself a pat on the back for being such a goddamn genius.

 _Once upon a time._ he continued, _There were two. Tantalizingly tender bitches. Not tender in the physical way._ _But rather. In the emotional way._

Caliborn sweat a little. Only a few sentences in, and he had already set up a killer exposition for what he was sure would turn out to be the steamiest story of all time.

Now, he needed to establish his characters. He supposed he could use people he had the displeasure of knowing, like Dirk and his idiot sister did, but the process of writing about already established people or characters, called "fanfiction" by his sister, repulsed him.

Only an idiot would willingly read garbage such as fanfiction, he thought to himself, resolving to create his own original characters for his story.

He resolved to use two characters, which, unlike the characters populating his sister's rubbish, were totally unique and not based off on anyone in any way.

After all, what kind of moron would base characters off of existing tropes, or, even worse, people and experiences from the real world? A completely and utterly incompetent sack of shit, that's who.

He considered giving his new characters names and personalities, but decided against it at the last moment. After all, he would not want something as petty as personality to interfere with the steamy times that were sure to be enjoyed by all.

Now, he just needed to think of a scenario for these two lovely ladies. Something considerably sappy and depraved. After a few moments of thinking, he decided that the best course would be to have the first bitch propose to the second one.

 _The first bitch got down on her knee and whipped out a ring. The second bitch, overcome with silly girl feelings, began to weep, emotional sweat seeping from her moist eyeballs. "Yes," the second bitch cried, "Yes, I will marry you!" They then hugged each other. Let me tell you. It was downright. Romaaaantic._

Caliborn now realized that he also wanted to include the wedding itself, but unfortunately for him, had not yet mastered the sacred art of writing to the point where he could transition to such a period with ease. Thus, he decided to employ a trick used by many of the masters of fiction known as a time skip.

 _*Time Skip*,_ he painstakingly typed, sure that his readers would be satisfied by such a smooth transition.

Now it was time for the wedding. The cherub's head was already spinning with plenty of magnificently depraved ideas of how these bitches would express their undying love for each other. He could practically feel his face flush at the just the mention of it. However, as his face was that of a skull, and he therefore could not blush, this feeling remained only practically.

 _The two bitches kissed, promising each other with their cake-smeared mouth holes that they would never leave each other for all eternity._

Wait, did the cake come before or after the kiss? Caliborn wasn't quite sure how human weddings worked. Come to think of it, he supposed these characters would have to be humans then. Oh well.

Now, as it happens, Caliborn was getting rather impatient. For some strange reason, creating each word did not give him the same erotic satisfaction as reading it: in fact, he found he was too worried about spelling mistakes and the like to even really have any emotion elicited from what he hoped would be his magnum opus. Wait, was he just supposed to write this shit and _hope_ that the readers experienced the desired response? What kind of bullshit was that?

In a flash of rage, he deleted the document without saving, only to immediately regret this action. After all, he had essentially flushed one of his earliest masterworks down the proverbial toilet.

However, say what you like about Caliborn, but he was not one to be easily discouraged.

Closing the lid on his computer, he vowed to try again, until he produced something truly magnificent, a piece of erotica that would put all other, similar pieces to shame.

After all, if you don't succeed, then try, try, try again.

He was also certain Cherub Shakespeare said that.


End file.
